Death Of A Poet By His Muse

 I wish to go back to that day –
the day we first met;
for it was the day I let my guard down,
the day I let you into my psyche;
you sang such a sweet song in tones so full and soft that my ears could not refrain, nor fathom their origin;
and I trusted you.
A damsel in distress consumed by lies,
you stand tall in gleaming armor,
holding that treacherous bloody knife in your hand.
Your eyes as dark as the heart you gave
and as heavy as the sins you sinned.
You haul back into the shadows without one word,
knowing you had taken aim;
aim to slide that icy blade into me. You slid it, Oh ever so gently I hardly even felt it.  
You promised me no pain,
yet these tears falling from my eyes never looked so attractive to you;
as you stand over my lifeless cold body.